


I've Got Troubled Thoughts

by starsandauras



Series: The World's a Beast of a Burden [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Hangover, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Will's Accent, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandauras/pseuds/starsandauras
Summary: In the wake of Lahabrea, Thancred drinks. Brigid has thoughts on this. William does as well, and informs Thancred of them.





	1. What a Catch

The wood of the table was cool against his skin, the dim light in the room only slightly offensive to his eyes. He mumbled something, drunken nonsense that no one paid any mind. His hand tightened around his bottle and he tried to lift his head, but it refused to obey. Alright, he’d wait a bit.

He heard footsteps behind him, light and nearly inaudible. Heeled boots, his ale-soaked mind supplied, not that it was a particularly helpful fact to him at the moment. He knew a startling number of people who wore such, after all. He felt thin fingers comb through his hair, light and delicate, and he leaned into it.

Oh no, wait, he was being lifted by his hair, that’s what that was. He squinted up at the red and pale blur in front of him, and his lips curved in a drunken smile. “’Lo Spi’fire,” he slurred, and he heard her sigh before she gently lowered his head again.

“Oh Thancred,” she murmured, and something tickled in the back of his mind. ‘Thancred,’ not that lovely word she used that he always forgot to ask the meaning of. Oh. Oh dear.

“Ye’re mad,” he mumbled, trying to gather the energy to sit up. Hm. Still nothing.

She sighed again and he saw her settle down in the seat opposite him, a drink in her own hand, out the corner of an eye. “Nay, nay mad,” she murmured. “Cannae be blamin’ you for the drinkin’.” She took a sip from her bottle, and oh she was such a pretty lady. He dimly noted she still had his marks on her neck, and something in him preened. “I’m doin’ it meself, after all.” She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, the back of her hand trailing along his face, as though checking for a temperature.

“’M alright…” he grumbled. “’Shtola’s checkin’…” He barely kept back a soft whine when he felt her hand retreat though. It’d been soft and cool and rough in all the right places, bring it back!

“Aye, ‘course she has,” Brigid said, sounding… was that sad? “And Minfilia.” Another pause for her drink, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. They were long, and she angled them to the side instead of under the table, so he stared at them for awhile. Such a pretty lady… “Bein’ able to be standin’, darlin’?”

Good question. He gathered his energy, thought _very_ hard about it, and… huh, it worked. “Yes?” he said, drunkenly confused. But Brigid was smiling, so that was enough for him.

“Good. Here, be leanin’ on me, ‘tis time for bed.” With that she drained the last of her drink and hauled him the rest of the way up, letting him rest most of his weight on her. Beautiful, strong, forgiving beyond belief, the perfect lady really, and Twelve save him but he lo—

* * *

He woke up the next morning and wished dearly that he hadn’t. It was as though a Gigas was trying to club its way out of his skull slowly; meanwhile a Malboro had taken up residence inside his mouth and promptly died there. He groaned and then winced when the sound of his own voice set the Gigas to hammering even harder, and it felt as though another had joined in. Thancred did _not_ want to risk opening his eyes and buried his eyes into the pillow.

It smelled of roses and lilies, and he felt a line of tension seep from his shoulders. Roses meant he’d found his way to Brigid’s bed, and that was always a good sign. Still though, he could feel the heat of a single candle, which meant that opening his eyes would be a massive mistake.

“Darlin’?” he heard her whisper, fingers carding through his hair, and that was enough for memories of the — night? Day? — before to trickle back in, like half solid syrup. Hells, _that’s_ how he ended up in her bed this time. “Darlin’, I’m knowin’ you’re bein’ ‘wake, I’ve tended to ‘nough folks feelin’ the drink the next day. Havin’ some water, and ‘tis mostly dark still.”

He chanced cracking an eye open and glancing up at her, and while she was still blurry at least this time he could make out sparkling eyes and a lovely mouth, which was kicked up in a weak smile. She smiled wider and held up a cup, waving it slightly in front of his face. He groaned again but forced himself to sit up and took it from her, reminding himself not to chug the contents. His stomach was unsettled enough, thank you.

“Aye, there we are,” she continued, keeping her voice soft. “How’s your head doin’?” He raised an eyebrow as he sipped slowly, and she laughed softly. “Nay bein’ hard to be tellin’ you’re favorin’ your head when you’re drinkin’ overmuch, darlin’.”

“As though a pair of Gigas have taken up residence,” he said, wincing at the rasp in his voice. He sipped more water.

Brigid nodded, which was good enough for him. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs at he knee and settling her clasped hands on them. His other eyebrow joined the first, as he only saw her take that pose when she was anxious about something, and he was proven right when she started to rub a thumb over the one below it. Before he could ask her what was amiss, she inhaled deeply. “Then ‘fore Llew’s gettin’ here with his cures we’re needin’ to be settlin’ some rules if you’re goin’ to keep drinkin’ like this.” She held up a hand to forestall his objections. “I’m nay mindin’ that you’re drinkin’, you’re bein’ functional and you’re a grown man ‘sides, ‘tis your choice to be doin’ it and I’m nay the person to be stoppin’ you. Me only request is that you dinnae drink ‘lone, and you dinnae go wanderin’ after.”

He blinked in surprise at her. Simple terms, and ones that respected his autonomy at that. The others, however dear he held them, seemed determined to talk him out of it, as though he wasn’t his own person ( _again_ , one of the Gigas hissed, and he sipped at the water in want of anything else to drink) able to make his own choices. “Naught else?” he asked, almost unable to believe his ears.

She shook her head, and the braid she wore to sleep shifted on her shoulder. “Nay anythin’ else. I’d rather you be drinkin’ with me, ‘course, but I’m just nay wantin’ you to be ‘lone. Liam’d be happy to be drinkin’ with you, and wouldnae be sayin’ nay to you keepin’ an eye on Connor.” She smiled weakly, and it had a sad edge he didn’t understand. “And please dinnae be wanderin’ off. Nay… nay bein’ safe.”

He would of course deny it later, claim that the simple requests from a simple woman had been what made him agree to them, claim that she had presented logical facts that had swayed his mind, but it was in fact the sad edge to that smile, the hitch in her voice on the last sentence that pulled at his heart. He found himself nodding, and the motion made him grimace and cover his face with his free hand. “Of course, Spitfire,” he murmured instead, and he found it worth the pain to hear her laugh softly.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, reaching out to take his hand from his face, holding it lightly. “Honest and true,” she added, and something about her words was like a stone landing in his stomach. He didn’t have a chance to ponder that feeling before she leaned in for a kiss. It was sweet and warm, and he set his now empty cup down to run his thumb along her jaw. She pulled back slightly and he could feel her smile against his lips. “You’re tastin’ like somethin’ Arthur was cookin’,” she said brightly.

“My lady, you wound me! Not _that_ terrible, surely!”


	2. I Will Never End Up Like Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Will half and where all the real shit gets going, tags-wise. We got some anger, the actual alcoholism, and all the unhealthy coping mechanisms. You can skip this half and I feel like it would be a complete story, but well... Thancred does need to learn about this.

He had held well to his promise, these past few sennights. It wasn’t difficult really, it wasn’t often that the Rising Stones lacked for people nearby and an offer of a free drink was enough for most. It also, he noticed, kept the other Scions at bay. Except for Alphinaud, but bless his heart the young man was trying.

So when he got that itch at the base of his skull he wandered over to the bar, relieved to find William sitting there already, a glass of amber liquid sitting next to a sheaf of paper. William was holding a quill, running his free hand through his hair. The set of his shoulders wasn’t a nervous one, so Thancred had no qualms in walking over and collecting his own drink.

He didn’t _think_ William hated him, at least not in the way brothers of the women he enjoyed the company of usually did. Besides, subduing that itch overrode any fear he might have had of the man to start with, and that was what had him sitting on the barstool next to the Elezen. William flicked his eyes over at him, very close to the same green as his sister’s but not quite, and he lowered his quill to tap his glass against the bottle in Thancred’s hand.

“Need me tae stay put then?” he asked, and Thancred chuckled weakly.

“I take it she told you,” he replied, a wry smile on his face.

William huffed out an amused sigh and took up his quill again. “Who dae ye think helped ‘er come up wi’ ‘er terms?” he asked instead, smirking. “Or who watched ‘er pace a swivin’ groove in me floor worryin’ ‘bout ye?”

And that was like a bucket of melted snow over his head, the smile falling from his face and his attention instead focusing on the label of the bottle before taking a long pull from it. “Causing her worry—”

“—is bein’ a thing ye’re bein’ quite guid at,” William quickly interrupted, taking a drink as well. “E’en if ye’re nay meanin’ tae.” He shrugged, scratching out something he’d written. “Th’ lass is always worryin’ ‘bout somethin’, if wusnae ye ‘twould be anythin’ else. Sae dinnae farsh yerself o’er it.” He waved his hand dismissively, seemingly ignoring Thancred’s spike of guilt.

“I should apologize,” he mused, and glanced over at William when the other man chuckled again. “Yes?”

“‘Course ye shuld, an’ she’ll be forgivin’ ye as she’s always daein’.” He frowned to himself and took a long drink from his glass. “She’s always forgivin’ far tae easily,” he grumbled, almost to himself. Thancred remained silent for a moment, unsure of if he should respond. He watched the other man out the corner of an eye, weighing his thoughts before he lowered his bottle.

“Do you mean she forgives _me_ far too easily?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral and his eyes lowered to study the woodgrain of the bar. After a few silent heartbeats he chanced a look up at the taller man, and pushed away the unease that started coiling in his gut when he found William’s eyes narrowed at him. He didn’t speak, and it was enough for the hair on the back of Thancred’s neck to stand on end and momentarily imagine some gruesome ending for him at William’s hands. Still, he held William’s gaze for quite a few heartbeats more, silently waiting.

And then William sighed, the sudden sound almost making the rogue jump out of his skin. The Elezen knocked back what remained of his whiskey and stood. “Gang need somethin’ stronger fer thi’,” he grumbled as he stood and walked around the bar. “Ye need toppin’ off?” Thancred looked down at the bottle, only dimly surprised there was only half of it left already.

“Not yet,” he said, or tried to say before a glass was all but slammed down next to his drink and promptly filled with a clear liquid. He leaned over and sniffed it. Ah. Popoto spirits.

“Ye’re gang need it anyroad,” William replied, filling his own glass and knocking half of it back before refilling it. He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, every pore of his body exuding aggravation. “Ye ken ‘bout our parents, aye?” he asked roughly, leaning against the bar.

It was confusion at the seeming non-sequitur that caused Thancred to hesitate, and he covered it by taking another pull at his first drink. “Your mother passed when you were young and your father likely died in the Calamity,” he replied. It was all that Brigid had offered to him, and nothing any of the other siblings had said had ever contradicted it. Though they were just as tight lipped as their sister was about the matter…

William huffed and took a drink. “Aye, ‘tis nay wrong,” he forced out, shoulders tensing. “‘Tis nay th’ whole story either.” He pointed at Thancred, voice hard. “Ye dinnae hear thi’ from me, ye ken?” At Thancred’s nod William buried his face in his hand for a moment. A deep inhale, long exhale. “Da drank.”

A flash of flame went down Thancred’s back, instantly forcing him to sit straight. “Was he violent?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing.

“Might ay been better,” William grumbled, downing more of his drink. “Nay, nay wus e’er raisin’ a hand tae any ay us.” He huffed. “Dinnae start ‘til after Mum wus passin’. Bri an’ Ah, we whur thirteen. Wus normal, ye ken? ‘Course he’s gang drink when ‘is wife’s dyin’ ou’ ay th’ blue.” William knocked back half of his drink again, letting his glass land heavily. “Wusnae sae bad at first, few drinks here an’ there.” He paused as Thancred drained his first drink and he nudged the popoto spirits in his direction. “Then he wus bein’… distant. Bein’ drunk fron’ ay us, clearly bein’ muir ‘ntrested in th’ drink than ‘is children.”

Thancred took a moment to do the math in his head. If the twins had been thirteen when their mother had died, the others had been… _swiving hells_ , Connor had been _four_. His estimation of the O’Donnell patriarch was falling by the minute.

William meanwhile was topping up his own glass. “Drinkin’ all th’ gil, tae. Learnin’ ‘bout debts he wus leavin’ in ‘is wake, folk ‘pectin’ _us_ tae be payin’ fer them. Wus startin’ local, easy tae pay wi’ tendin’ gardens or craftin’ somethin’.” He sighed and shook his head. “Then he wus startin’ tae cast a wider net.”

_“And please dinnae be wanderin’ off. Nay… nay bein’ safe.”_ His hand gripped tighter around the glass.

William seemingly didn’t notice Thancred’s growing anger. “Took tae leavin’ us ‘lone. Startin’ wi’ bells, then days…” Another drink and another sigh. “Llew wus leavin’ tae, joinin’ th’ Conjurers’ Guild, sendin’ us th’ coin tae be payin’ debts. Wus helpin’, an’ Bri, she wus startin’ tae sell ‘er knittin’ tae.” He shrugged to himself and leaned against the bar again. “We whaur bein’ sixteen, near seventeen, when he wusnae comin’ home fer moons.”

When Connor was _seven_. Far, far too young for any of them to be on their own, even if the elder three were legally adults. The thought of it turned his stomach, and he sipped uneasily at his spirits. “There was no one to support any of you?”

William shrugged again, far too casual for such a serious conversation. “Da burned ‘is bridges wi’ most folk, others culdnae be helpin’ anyroad. Thinkin’ some folk werenae e’en kennin’ tae start with. Nay any other family either. Jes’ us ‘gainst th’ world.” He huffed slightly, wry smile touching his lips. “Tends tae be tha’ way, dinnae it?” He quickly sobered though, and took another drink. “Nay e’er saw him ‘gain, Bri wus leavin’ tae, findin’ work tae be puttin’ food oan th’ table, gettin’ th’ runt intae th’ Arcanists’ Guild. Then th’ bloody moon wus ‘xplodin’.” He raised his glass and mock toasted to Thancred. “Nay muir debts, lochly nay muir Da. An’ nay bein’ ‘specially broken up ‘bout tha’.” He drained his glass and placed it with a surprising amount of care on the bar. He crossed his arms on it, smiling thinly at Thancred. “Sae ye c’n be seein’ how ‘twould almost be better if he wus raisin’ ‘is hands tae us. ‘Least he’d be ‘round fer it.”

And how his own sudden turn to the bottle must have upset Brigid, he thought even as he continued drinking. Her conditions were ludicrously fair in retrospect. Far more than he deserved. She really did forgive him far too easily.

“In light of that, you’ll forgive me if I hope that he is indeed in Thal’s realm,” he murmured, pushing away any guilt the thought brought him.

The wry smile returned, if briefly. “As Ah’m feelin’ th’ same, nay needin’ tae fergive. Hopin’ he’s bein’ in one ay th’ Seven Hells meself. Nay hearin’ tha’ from me tae, by th’ way.”

“Of course,” he agreed easily. “In turn, you did not hear from me that should I ever find your sire alive, he would not remain that way for long.”

William laughed. Loud and long, shaking his head. “Git in line lad, ye’d be havin’ tae beat me an’ Connor tae it.” He reached for another bottle with another clear liquid in it. “Finish yer glass, we’ll be takin’ water sae ye dinnae have tae deal wi’ Llew’s Brew later.” He filled his glass before Thancred’s. “’Sides, ye an’ me sister both wuld be havin’ me hide if Ah wus leadin’ ye tae blackout drunk,” he added, and the unspoken “again” hung in the air.

It had not been a good night for any in the Waking Sands, and much less so for Thancred, and he had no interest in having another fit of panic, especially on that scale, thank you very much.

Thancred nodded and tossed back the last of it, holding out his glass to be refilled. He felt only a little guilty for continuing to drink even knowing what he did now, but Brigid did say she trusted him, didn’t she? And he was still following the far too lenient rules she had set down. He was still “functional,” she said. Still…

“I should still apologize to her,” he murmured, letting the water slosh in the glass.

The other man shrugged and tapped his own glass against Thancred’s in a real toast. “Gae back tae yer usual ‘mount ay drinkin’ quick as ye c’n, be ‘nough fer her. Dinnae matter how lang ye’re takin’, sae lang as ye dae ‘ventually.”

Thancred returned the toast just as the door to the Stones opened and Brigid strode in. They locked eyes for a moment, and she smiled softly and waved to him before continuing on, likely to report back to Minfilia.

“Eventually, you say?” he asked absently, and William nodded.

He could drink to that.


End file.
